


Sit Still Look Pretty.

by AllieDoll126



Series: Sit Still Look Pretty [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: (light), Beforus Culling (Homestuck), Body Horror, Dehumanization, Gen, Gun (mention), Kankri Vantas-centric, POV Kankri Vantas, Slice of Life, Subjuggulators, Troll Culture (Homestuck)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:54:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllieDoll126/pseuds/AllieDoll126
Summary: A deep dive into Beforus style culling, with Kankri getting a good bit of trauma along the way.Kankri never had a lusus, they had been picked up from the caverns. Cherry red wiggler body on display for all to see, bright scarlet eyes still far too weak to see more than 12 paces ahead of them.
Series: Sit Still Look Pretty [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120073
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Sit Still Look Pretty.

**Author's Note:**

> TW An adult being pale skeevy with bb kankri but no seggs. Gun mention (no one gets shot). Body Horror

Kankri never had a lusus, they had been picked up from the caverns. Cherry red wiggler body on display for all to see, bright scarlet eyes still far too weak to see more than 12 paces ahead of them. They remember, vaguely the calming purrs that soothed them to sleep as they were swaddled in a soft blanket. Bound tightly to prevent squirming, but they were not the only one being plucked straight from the caverns. No one was so obviously off spectrum such as they were, but there were others. They were passed off to highbloods nearly at the top of the spectrum. 

Kankri remembers being handed off, the gentle tickle of a claw against their cheek, long fingers that felt like ice against their mutant warm skin.

Of course, they are still far too young to know that they're a mutant. All Kankri knew now was sensation, the gnawing pit of hunger, the ache of cold, and the instinctual bright light brought. A new sensation was plaguing them though, an itch under their skin extending out deep in their multiple sets of little arms. Instinct had them building their coon, and it was instinct that had them whining in terror as the cocoon was sliced open neatly with a claw, they were still too stiff to move, even though their grub skin was almost completely disconnected from their new skin. They could do nothing as the residual limbs were pulled off, wiggler pale skin exposed early. The grey was so light they were almost glowing under the soft moon light. The cold hands of The Adult were nearly too much against his oversensitive wiggler skin. The Adult gently peeled away the thicker protective skin of their back and shoulders then lowered them back into the opened cocoon, a cool finger ran just under a developing gill slit with an interested hum.

  
The wiggler was placed back into the cocoon and resealed now that they were modified to The Adults wishes. Now when they eventually unsealed from the cocoon their skin would be wiggler smooth all over, the bumpy protective layer would not grow in until their next pupation, leaving them soft, defenseless. Perfect cullbait, perfect to show off and coddle.

They were nothing more than a prop. A pretty wiggler, soft skinned and off spectrum. Horns too small for any sort of defense, too odd for a lusus and all alone. Or they would've been if their Culler hadn't found them, and taken them in. Only someone so high in the spectrum could be expected to care for a troll so odd and defenseless, the more pathetic Kankri looked the more respect his Culler earned.  


  


Growing more aware was a slow process, they were half a sweep old when they began to pick up words, repeating and remembering them with keen intelligence. Which, was of course not desirable when in the presence of others. Kankri needed to look helpless, weak and dull eyed. Drugs were too dangerous for a wiggler this young, but a horn ring just slightly too tight triggered their burgeoning submissive reflex and kept them to0 flooded with endorphins to do much more than drool and whimper as they got passed from chilly hand to chilly hand. The ruby jewel on the rings announced their off spectrum blood for all to see, gaining his Cullers sympathy and respect for taking what surely must be such a sickly little one. They grew up, small, delicate, and dressed in fabrics worth more than a hive.

Soon They progressed to He, as boys were more desirable culls. Kankri didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, no matter how much he liked pretty dresses and skirts along with his little bow ties and suit jackets. He was glad they never put him in shoes though, his tiny feet and short claws looked far sweeter than a simple black loafer. The lack of shoes meant that he was never allowed to walk, he was always carried high off the ground, still small enough to be held in one large hand. Which he considered a fair trade for not being forced into stuffy shoes that made his skin crawl.  


With the designation of his gender he was allowed to talk. The words tangled in his mouth but he was determined to learn, so the newly two sweep old would lay awake at night and repeat things he had heard over and over. It was difficult, the words always sounded wrong. He’d repeat them until tears welled up in his eyes and the words sounded made up. Some nights he’d give up and vow never to speak again, but the next night there he’d be again, words tangling with his clumsy tongue. He fell asleep cheeks wet with tears often, he just wanted to be included, to understand but his Protecarer enjoyed the confused look on his face when someone would ask him a question and he couldn’t decipher the meanings behind the words .If only so they could coo softly to him, in a patronizing way that made his skin crawl. Most of the time when he’d be out of home he’d be papped silly. No matter how hard he’d try to pay attention he could barely hear through the comforting haze in his head.

He is three and a half sweeps old when his Protecarrer finally decides to start teaching him things, lest they look like inadequate guardians.

The load gaper was the greatest invention of all time and Kankri would be very happy to never use wiggler relief garments ever again.

Enough said on the issue.

While Kankri was capable of walking, he was unpracticed and his balance was atrocious. So the dance classes began, because how would he be expected to dance with the more capable cullees at the fancy parties if he could barely stay up on his own feet? As he grew he was still small but he didn’t look as sickly anymore, so just letting him sit to the side and be cooed over wasn’t an option. Singing lessons came soon after, he couldn’t read well yet, so he would memorize the songs by ear and repeat the words to his teacher, a very tall indigo who often looked over him in concern. As if he would fall over at the slightest touch. It was nice in a way, she was the only person in his life that would ask before touching him. Unlike his dance teacher who would just grab and maneuver him into place, especially during stretches, the tall cerceealan instructor would just grip his arm or legs and bend him, pushing him as far as he could stretch. The lack of protective plating that his protecarer peeled away during his molts made him more flexible then the average troll.

Ballet was added in with the ball dancing lessons slowly, for his Culler did not wish to overwhelm him. He loved it, no matter how grabby the teacher tended to be. Learning to dance and put on a show meant he was not shoosh papped into oblivion when his culler, the Overseer, took him out of the hive. It was glorious, being aware of people and being able to finally understand most of what they were saying. Sure, bigger words still rattled around in his think pan before bouncing onto their meaning but he was learning. When his Culler did not watch his music teacher would teach him out to sound out words, and soon he could read the words on his music sheets, even if he pretended not to, he didn’t want the Melodic to get in trouble and not be able to teach him more after all.

Life went on and Kankri was slowly getting taught more, which he adored. However another development occurred around the time he turned four sweeps old. Before his dreams were fuzzy, hard to remember and insignificant but lately they had become something more...memorable. They had become nightmares. Blood, from all across the hemospectrum spilt onto dark red sand, running for what felt like days. A beautiful luminescent Jade holding him tightly as they hid together, a suffering psionic, being forced to the ground as he sobbed. Every night was something different, and every night the dreams felt so much more real than the last. Not every night was bad, but there was alway an undercurrent of tension, as if they were waiting for the other shoe to drop.  


His protector took notice, and saw fit tell everyone that “their poor little one” was having such a hard time sleeping. For the first time, Kankri was uncomfortable. His culler would gently rub his nubbly horns, and get him to talk about his dreams, get him relaxed and crying. Emotions reacting to the pale affection and the left over fear, then get him half dressed, and take him out to show off her poor distraught wiggler. Adults would gather and coo as he cried and hid his face against her. She would let other high bloods take turns cradling him and purring soothingly. He noticed that none of the others would caresse his face as she did, or scratch gently around his horn beds as she did, and he began to wonder. So he would rub his horns against the other highbloods, nuzzle his pupa soft cheeks against their shoulders and they’d brush him off, holding him father back or hand him back to the Overseer. When he tried to do the same to her in public she’d tut at him and excuse his behaviour as a bad habit she’d been attempting to break him out of. At home, he’d do the same and she would respond by wrapping her gently, rubbing her claw against the hornbed, dissolving him into a mushy mess.

Kankri began to feel very afraid.

Even in his dream the lumuncient jade blood wouldn’t touch his horns or cheeks. She’d hold him closely and purr, or rub his back to soothe him but never his horns. During dance competitions he would watch other cullees and even other young highspectrum trolls who had lusi instead of cullers. Some would nuzzle their cheeks with other young trolls but never with their cullers or adults. Because of his nightmares he was almost constantly being watched, he was having less music and dance lessons, so he couldn’t even ask the Melodic if it was bad or if he was just looking too far into it. Even his dance teacher, handsy as she was posing him like a toy, never triggered his submissive reflex.  


Kankri always thought the Melodic looked at him like he was delicate, but lately he couldn’t help but wonder if it was worry instead.So, he stopped complaining about the nightmares, and started throwing ‘tantrums’ instead. He’d run off and hide away in one of the many rooms in the seaside estate, it was on one of his little “adventures” that he learned to shoot.  


The Overseers matesprit was over often, and today he was demonstrating the” ancient weaponry Beforans would use before they became civilized.” and Kankri was enthralled. He had seen such things in his dreams, and had an idea of the damage they could do, their power. There was a little part in him that wished to take that power for himself, and an even larger piece of him that had an aching desire to learn all he could.  


The second they left he crept out, little hands grasping the smallest weapon, wrapping his hands around the handle tightly just as his Mo-no. Just as the jade blooded woman had instructed in his dreams, feet planted, he looked over his shoulder one last time before facing forward again, and pulling the trigger. From then on, it was his favorite hiding spot. He was never caught there thankfully, and lessons eventually picked up again in frequency to keep him busy. When he looked the Melodic in the eyes, and asked her why the Overseer would touch his horns but no one else would, between one blink and the next her eyes turned orange. He scooted back in his hair, pulse quickening as a strange tension built between his eyes, expanding with every frantic beat of his heart- and then it popped, deflating like a sad balloon.  


He looked up to her as his heart calmed, her head was tilted back and her long mane flowed down her spine in waves. She looked up to him and smiled softly.

“Little Brother, collect everything you would like to keep. Have it all ready by dust tomorrow. I will explain it all to you then little one.”

  


If he hid the two smallest pistols deep in his closet, could anyone blame him? Especially after that?

The next morning he woke to noise, loads of it, drums and horns and a rhythmic pounding against the door. Outside there were subjugglators, dozens, at the least. They surrundoed the house and the Melodic, face painted cleanly, walked him out as they played.Later he would learn that Subjugglatos were one of the few bloodcaste to reject culling, they culled their own, refusing to let kin and clade be subject to those who could harm them. Many became sleeper agents, doing jobs while paintless to observe the inner workings of a corrupt system. It was a well known fact, if you harmed a wiggler in any way, the church would come for you. The Melodic explained this to him calmly, painted up properly for the first time in a long time, as she led him toward the Highblood.  


He stuck close to her, the Church was glaringly loud, the fabric against his skin felt over sensitive and achy as it always did, but combined with the noise it was nearly too much. He couldn’t help but think about how different this party was to all the others he had been too, and he tried to push back the image of the Overseer being tossed about in the air like a ragdoll as she squirmed against her bindings over a sea of honks and cheers.  


The Highblood was a beautiful juxtaposition. His eyes were both deadly and fragile and they widened as they gazed upon him.

“Well, ain’t that motherfucking miracle. Ain’t a see a blessid cherry like you in a long time little brother.” the words drawled out of his mouth leisurely, but Kankri could see more behind the words.  
He could see his own red, his own face, older, different but he was shook from his thoughts when the Highblood gripped his shoulder. The giant troll drug his bloodied thumb across Kankri forehead, making a simple shape.

**:o)**

“Beautiful little miracle grub,”, he pouted at that, which only widened the Highbloods smile, “Tomorrow we will all up and get you a place to be, but tonight join us in our wicked revelry”  


  


From that moment on, he was marked. Kankri Vantas was now a ward of the Church.


End file.
